Archmage
by Dirty Reid
Summary: A simple but controversial question drives Harry to take the war into his own hands, choosing a path that will rock both the magic and Muggle world in a way no one saw coming.
1. Prologue: Revelation

**Archmage**

**A Harry Potter Fic by Dirty Reid**

**A.N.: Another attempt at dabbling in something new and adding to a sorely lacking sector of the Harry Potter fanfiction archive. Note that I'm shifting the canon timeline to the present day so I can make some of the references in here with impunity.**

**Again, see my profile for my Internecivus raptus Challenge fic.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of the movies I make references to.**

**Chapter 1: Revelation**

* * *

_June 26, 2010_

Neither can live while the other survives.

Those words echoed through the head of Harry Potter, wizard, Archnemesis of Voldemort, Boy-Who-Lived, and recently christened Chosen One. Those words that had haunted him ever since he had heard the prophecy concerning his link to the Dark Lord in the office of Albus Dumbledore not two weeks ago.

That blasted prophecy was the reason he hadn't slept in almost four days, compounded by the grief of losing Sirius and the anger at Dumbledore for keeping things from him. All this was piled on top of the possibility that he might not live to see seventeen. His life looked like it was starting to suck even harder now.

It wasn't _fair_! Why of all people did this have to happen to him? Why couldn't it have happened to some other schmoe? There were millions of other wizards or witches Voldemort could have chosen, but it was _him_ that got saddled with the terrible past and the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders.

"'Life is cruel.'" Harry whispered, a line uttered by the squid-like Davy Jones in _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_. No truer words could have ever been spoken in regards to life as a whole.

'_People preach about it being a beautiful thing,' _Harry mused sourly. _'But they all seem to forget to mention that there are some seriously miserable sons of bitches out there, yours truly included.' _He chuckled at his dark analysis of the world. Growing tired of looking out his window, Harry exited his cluttered bedroom and made his way downstairs, hoping to find some way to entertain himself. The Dursleys had just gone off on a three week vacation, and had seen fit to leave him behind. As such, he had free reign of the house. He opened the fridge and pulled out some leftover chicken, some of the vegetables that Dudley wouldn't eat unless forced, and grabbed a loaf of bread. After he fixed himself up a sandwich and opened the fridge to look for a drink, his emerald eyes drifted to the bottles of beer Uncle Vernon had just bought. In a moment of even greater contempt for his relatives, Harry took one of the bottles and made his way to the living room.

He set his meal down on the small coffee table and proceeded to open up the movie cabinet. He was greeted by the sight of several dozen DVDs. While the Dursleys prided themselves on their normalcy, they had no qualms about 'abnormal' movies… or rather, Dudley didn't. They did however, have qualms about Harry watching said movies. _'But they're not here now,' _Harry thought with a grin as he scanned the shelf. He finally stopped running his finger along the spines of the DVDs when he landed on _Spider-Man_. He had managed to hear some of the dialogue when the Dursleys had first bought it (Dudley liked his movies loud), and he had been dying to put images in place with the audio. He slipped the DVD in, cranked up the sound and watched the movie while eating his sandwich and sipping his beer.

The movie had not disappointed. Harry gave several mental compliments to Sam Raimi for directing such an awesome movie. Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst and Willem Dafoe didn't go without points either. On some level, Harry felt a connection to Peter Parker. Peter Parker, whose parents had died when he was a child; who had been raised by his aunt and uncle; who had been foisted with unnatural powers, and had chosen to use them for the good of society; who had watched a treasured person die before him.

But it was Ben Parker's immortalizing line that struck a chord from deepest within him: 'With great power comes great responsibility' the old man had said.

'_That is _so_ true that it's not funny enough to almost be funny.'_ Harry stopped for a second, wondering how he came up with that bizarre statement. He dismissed it as the alcohol talking; he had picked up a second bottle of beer midway through the movie. Still, Ben Parker wasn't wrong. Harry held a great power, and he had been saddled with the task of ending Voldemort's reign of terror.

"Wonder what else is here…?" he mumbled as he replaced _Spider-Man_. The sequel was right next to it, but he figured that he could watch it later.

"_Daredevil_? Nah, heard that wasn't too great. _Star Trek 5_? Standard against which all badness is measured. _Batman Begins_? Why not?"

* * *

Harry meandered aimlessly down Damien Road, the direct path to the heart of Little Whinging. Tuesdays were when Mundungus Fletcher was stationed to watch him. Harry had figured this out simply by listening to the drunken lout snoozing on the job for the past week and a half. As such, he had a perfect window of opportunity to escape Privet Drive for a while every Tuesday.

He had finished _Batman Begins _almost half an hour ago, and had been thoroughly impressed by Chris Nolan's work, along with the acting ability of Christian Bale and Gary Oldman, among others. Seeing Oldman made Harry's heart twinge painfully; the actor reminded him of Sirius. **(Oh, sweet, sweet irony…)**

Strange as it was, Harry felt similar to Bruce Wayne and Batman, just as he did with Peter Parker and Spider-Man. Like him, Bruce Wayne's parents had been murdered before him as a child. Bruce eventually went to train himself to become Batman, with the ultimate goal of running the rampant criminals of Gotham into the ground, facing the supervillain Scarecrow and overthrowing his nefarious plot to drive Gotham insane in the process. Batman had a sweeter deal though; he didn't have to kill someone.

That one little difference didn't completely stop Harry from feeling a connection to Batman. _'Now that I think about it,'_ a part of Harry's mind piped up _'I, for all-intensive purposes, have _every _component of a superhero: Tragic past, extraordinary powers, the weight of the world on my shoulders and a desire to do good. It's almost scary.'_

Harry was so caught up in listening to that strange line of thought that he failed to look and see where he was going until he almost rammed straight into the door of the establishment.

Coloured Comic Inc.

Harry's right eyebrow shot up into his hairline. There was no way he just sat through two superhero movies and ended up here by coincidence. _'I'd be willing to think Divination wasn't a crock of shit if it didn't involve Trelawney being right.' _Harry chuckled as he opened the door to the shop. The bell that sounded was that of Chewbacca's warbling tones. The store was rather dim, and the small amount of clientele looked like they didn't see a lot of sunlight or interact with the rest of society on a regular basis. Harry, with his messy hair, pale complexion and ill-fitting clothes, fit right in.

Harry stumbled through the store, looking through the old and new comic books, scanning the action figures and observing the graphic novels. As he passed by another huge white box of classic comic books, he stopped when he saw one name in particular.

_Dr. Strange: Sorcerer Supreme_.

It was at that moment, as soon as Harry's brain had finished processing the title of the series, that one of the most important questions Harry had ever thought of in the entirety of knowing he was a wizard came to the forefront of his mind. A question so simple, but so brilliant.

A question that would turn Harry Potter's life upside down… again:

'_How come no wizard has ever tried to become a superhero?' _he wondered.

'_I mean, I can understand purebloods not doing it, what with not giving a damn about Muggles, but what about wizards with Muggle parents or Muggleborns? Having powers you'd only see in comic books should be, like, their ticket to putting on a mask and going to fight crime!' _Harry stroked his chin, noting with surprise that there was a small bit of stubble there. Pushing the option of growing a beard into the back of his head, he continued pondering his ground-breaking question.

'_I guess the Ministry would have a hand in stopping that though, being able to trace magic… hold on a sec, is the Trace on the _wizard_ or their wand?' _Harry's eyes lit up so much after several seconds of thinking that one could have thought them to be glowing. _'It must be on the wand! The Ministry knew what kind of spell was cast both times, even though it was Dobby the first time, so they must have the Trace put on the wand and set to deactivate after it synchs with a wizard or witch and they turn seventeen.' _Harry couldn't believe how much of a roll he had just gone on, even though he didn't know he was correct. That was something he would expect of his best friend, Hermione.

'_I guess the only way to test it is to somehow steal someone else's wand and see what happens. But how the hell am I… Mundungus!' _Harry concluded, turning tail and exiting the comic shop.

* * *

'_Yeesh, this guy could wake the dead while he's sleeping!' _Harry remarked as he closed in on the lazy coward's location. He stopped tiptoeing when he heard the snores emitting from an almost unnoticeable depression in the warm shingles composing the roof of Number Two, Privet Drive, and hesitantly began to reach forwards. He laid his fingers on the roof and began to feel around for the smooth fabric of an Invisibility Cloak. Seconds later, he found it. Tensing his muscles so hard that they hurt, gritting his teeth and squinting, Harry began to slowly lift the cloak off the sleeping man. Lady Luck seemed to be smiling upon him, as Mundungus did not stir. Harry felt himself growing lighter as he spied Dung's wand hanging out of one of his pockets. With practiced delicacy, Harry grasped the hilt of the wooden magical focus and began inching it out of Dung's pocket.

Mundungus snorted. Harry's blood ran cold and he became as stiff as a statue. Dung began to shift slightly, but fell back to his death-heavy slumber. Harry silently let out his breath and went back to pulling out the lazy wizard's wand. It took almost ninety seconds for Harry to finally free the wand from Dung's holster, but he did it. Ever so meticulously, Harry replaced the cloak over his 'watcher' and began to creep down the roof.

As he made his way up to his small bedroom, Harry wondered what spell to use in order to test his Tracing Theory. As he pondered, his eyes were drawn to Hedwig, squirming about in her cage. Seeing the locked door caused the proverbial lightbulb to ignite over Harry's head as he pointed his wand at the cage. He just hoped the Unlocking Charm was cause for Ministry attention. Crossing the fingers of his left hand, Harry committed himself.

"_Alohomora_," Harry whispered. The lock clicked and disengaged, allowing the door to creak open. Hedwig hooted softly as she hopped out of the cage.

"Hey girl," Harry said softly as his faithful companion landed on his shoulder. He reached up to scratch her behind her ears. Hedwig's feathers rose as she began to twist her head so that Harry's fingers were positioned below her beak, a place she couldn't scratch. For a few moments, Hedwig was content to let Harry stroke her before taking off into the afternoon. Now all he could do was wait and see if his theory about the Trace was correct.

An hour had passed and there was still no notice from the Ministry. Not even after Harry, wanting to be sure, had used a Summoning Charm to get another beer from the fridge while he was watching _The Fantastic Four_. Harry found though, that he had to put more effort into using magic when the wand was not his own.

But that was not why he felt a bubble of glee. It was because he could not be traced if he was using the wand of another. This meant he was one step closer to his new goal:

Being the first wizard in history to become a Muggle superhero.

He grinned in anticipation, before something he hadn't thought of made itself heard.

'Why_ do I want to be a superhero?'_

The first explanation was that he wanted to make history. His more deductive side called him on that lie almost immediately. He had enough fame and fortune heaped upon his shoulders, accompanied by the weight of the world. So no, it wasn't because he wanted to cement his spot in the history books.

Harry, having seen several superhero movies by this point, considered the fact that most, if not all of them, never asked for their powers or the responsibility that came with them. They ended up becoming superheroes because they felt they had an obligation to make the world a better place, after being in a situation that made people begin to look up to them. Harry had been through identical situations, and possessed a willingness to help people.

'_Sometimes I know that my 'saving people thing' is going to be the death of me.' _Harry mused. But even though his selflessness landed him in perilous situations, Harry was able to overlook that, knowing that his actions would benefit others, or were simply the right thing to do.

'_Maybe that's why no wizard has ever tried to become a superhero before; they were all unwilling to give their lives for someone else, or they were afraid. I can understand that. Standing against Voldemort isn't exactly relaxing. But something has to be done. They're out there, killing wizards, witches and Muggles, and no one has the heart to try and stop them, or at least try and get rid of the crime in the Muggle world.' _Dark thoughts swelled in Harry's head.

'_If the Order was really doing what it says its doing, this war could have been over before it started. But Dumbledore, that conniving old puppet master, thinks he has everything under control. If he'd given in and let us give the Death Eaters a taste of their own medicine, people might not be afraid of opening their doors.' _Harry turned off the television and made his way to the window. The sun was beginning its descent into the west, casting lengthening shadows that shrouded part of Harry's face.

"People have been afraid for too long, and nothing has been done about it." Harry murmured to no one. Harry's hand closed into a very tight fist. His eyes hardened,

He was tired of being kept in the dark. He was tired of people being afraid. It was time to show the world once and for all that one man could make a difference.

It was time to take a stand. And as of now, Harry Potter was the only one who would.

* * *

Trying to escape the watch of the competent members of the Order was suicide; so once again, Harry escaped Mundungus' 'watch'. He left Privet Drive with nothing more than both of his wands, the clothes on his back, his Invisibility Cloak, shrunken Firebolt and his now wallet-sized trunk. He would return eventually, but he felt it was best to travel light.

As he reached Magnolia Crescent, he ducked into a run-down children's playground. As he slipped under his cloak, he began applying Glamour Charms to himself. The first thing he did was cover the accursed scar on his forehead before darkening his skin tone slightly. Jet black hair became goldenrod; bottle green eyes became icy blue. In just a few moments of Glamours, Harry looked like the poster boy for Hitler's master race. Utterly unrecognizable as the Chosen One. He smirked in a perverse sense of pleasure as he stuck out his wand and prepared for the hellish ordeal that was riding the Knight Bus.

Fourteen minutes of hellishly terrifying driving later, 'Thomas Nast' exited the Knight Bus and entered the Leaky Cauldron pub. Tom, the bartender, paid him no second glances as he rented a standard room for the night. Harry awoke early the following morning and quickly made his way into the nearly deserted Diagon Alley. He first stopped at Gringotts, politely asking (bribing) the goblins who attended to him to not let anyone know he was here as he placed a money bag filled with one thousand galleons into his normal-sized trunk before shrinking it again.

If he was going to be a superhero, he first needed to refine his powers. Sure, he had some spells, but if he was going to take on the world, his small repertoire could easily be analysed by the higher class of criminal or the Death Eaters, or any law enforcement that didn't agree with him alleviating the fear that was rapidly blanketing Europe. To remedy the situation, Harry casually entered Flourish and Blott's and headed for the spell book section. As he scanned the shelves pensively, an almost unnaturally plain-looking middle-aged man approached him.

"Can I help you sir?" he asked, a slight tinge of nervousness in his voice. Harry wasn't sure whether it was the world's current status, or because Thomas Nast looked like an elite pureblood.

"Yes, I believe you can." He said. "I'm looking for some advanced spell books for… well, for protection. Would you mind recommending something?" Harry asked. The man nodded.

"Certainly, Mr.…" he trailed off, waiting for a name to be given.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Nast, Thomas Nast. And please, call me Thomas." Harry lied, extending his hand, which the man shook. Harry was certain that the shop employee believed him to be a pureblooded asshat, if his slight expression of surprise was any indication.

"Of course, Thomas. If you'll follow me please?" the man beckoned Harry to accompany him. They moved to the back of the shop, and past a frayed purple curtain. Curiosity piqued, Harry asked the question. "Where are we going?"

The man turned. "Can you keep a secret Thomas?" he asked. Harry nodded warily. "I keep my serious spell books in the back. The ones in the front? They're just frivolous little decorations. The books back here are usually only supplied to officials such as Aurors or curse breakers. That, or people of my choosing." He said with a grin. Harry raised one of his eyebrows.

"So… why me?" he asked. The man grinned tightly, his muddy brown eyes betraying a small amount of amusement.

"Well, one, I'm Galen Blott, owner of this establishment." Blott introduced himself, much to Harry's shock. From the look of him, Harry would have guessed Blott to be simply an average employee. Blott seemed to pick up on this.

"Wondering why I'm out here serving people? It's a good cover. Death Eaters won't expect the owner of the shop to be the one doling out the spell books." Blott answered Harry's unasked question. "And two… I know that's you under there Mr. Potter." 'Thomas Nast's' eyes widened and his hand began to drift for his stolen wand. Blott almost chuckled.

"Relax," he assured, "I'm not going to tell anyone." Harry did not feel much better, but moved his hand away from his wand.

"What gave me away?" he asked. Blott crossed his arms.

"You sound the same as he does. Like Mr. Ollivander, I don't forget my customers." Harry shrugged after a second, mentally berating himself for skipping that little detail.

"… Well, how bout those recommendations?" Harry asked. Blott nodded and began to show Harry various titles.

'Thomas Nast' walked out of Flourish and Blott's fifteen minutes later, carrying a bag full of books. Some of the titles included _A Beginner's Guide to Auror-Level Spellwork_, _Defense for Veterans_, and _The Ward Encyclopedia_. Harry had picked up the book on wards in case he ever needed to vacate Privet Drive and set up a secret hideout in true superhero fashion.

For the moment, he simply holed up in number four, reading through his books. He would cast the occasional spell, but nothing too big simply out of paranoia. With little to distract him until the next Tuesday- assuming Mundungus was still assigned to watch him, due to the 'loss' of his wand- Harry grew bolder in his casting. After a few useful spells in the Auror's Guide, he came upon the _Transfiguration in Battle_ section. Having seen Dumbledore perform that nifty trick on the large gold fountain during the skirmish at the Ministry, he was immediately intrigued. The spells were much like what McGonagall would have taught, but much faster and cruder, with a far larger margin for error. Harry tried one of them once; the coffee table-turned-lynx almost mauled him before he could change it back. Definitely something to use, but only after he had a better grasp on using Mundungus' wand. The unfamiliar focus left his casting wonky, leading him to overpower spells, or not use enough power.

That just wouldn't do. If he was going to be a superhero, he needed to know that he could cast spells properly without them fucking up or not working. That left him with three options:

Option one: Use his original wand. No good. The Trace was still on it, so the second he cast a spell while fighting crime, the Ministry would be on him like lights on a Christmas tree.

Option two: Discreetly have another wand crafted. In his previous years, he had heard smidgens of conversations among the Slytherins about their wands being crafted by someone who worked out of Knockturn Alley. While it was a place Harry did not want to go, he felt that going to this wand crafter would more than likely be beneficial to his superhero campaign.

Option three: Practice his magic wandlessly. While he had performed wandless magic in his youth, it was all borne out of strong emotions. Harry though, had an inkling that being able to perform magic without a wand would be beneficial.

'_What better time to start than now?' _he wondered. He looked around for a moment, wondering what sort of magic to cast. As his eyes passed to the movie rack, Harry stopped when he laid eyes on the _Star Wars_ box set. Having been allowed to watch the world's greatest movies while at Mrs. Figg's home gave Harry his first idea for practicing wandless magic.

'_And if I actually go out crime-fighting, I can pass it off as telekinesis or the Force. Sweet!' _Harry grinned before he raised his hand and closed his eyes. He allowed the box of three movies to become an image in his mind. He traced every contour; memorized every detail. He pictured his outstretched hand as his wand, gave it a jerk, and thought _'Accio Star Wars Box Set!'_ with all his might.

He heard a faint noise and opened his eyes to see the box of three DVDs had moved out of the shelf and were teetering on the edge. _'This could take a while.'_ Harry rued.

But he was wrong. By the same time next week, Harry was able to use the Summoning Charm wandlessly, but it was only effective on small objects such as a book or a plate. It wasn't much, but it was a start. At the rate he was able to acquire a grasp on the charm wandlessly, Harry figured it wouldn't be long before he was able to pull a gun or a wand from someone's hand. Seeing the similarities, Harry began to work on wandlessly performing another easier, but still Jedi-like charm, the Levitation Charm. He hauled himself out of his chair and stood in the centre of the Dursley television room. What was a superhero if they couldn't float down from the sky onto a crime scene?

Harry closed his eyes and began to draw his magic into himself. Envisioning his hand as his wand, he tapped his leg and mentally commanded _'Wingardium Leviosa!'_

A feeling of weightlessness overtook him. Harry felt the pressure of his weight leave his feet as he rose into the air. Keeping his concentration, he opened his eyes marginally and cast them downwards. While he was pleased to see his feet floating above the floor, he was slightly disappointed to see he was only hovering about three inches off the ground. In an attempt to test his powers, Harry mentally willed his magic to move him forward. Nothing happened. Harry frowned and released his concentration, dropping back to the ground.

Wandless magic was a lot harder than Harry had theorized, and using the Levitation Charm on himself required a lot more energy than he had expected. Still, within a week, he had acquired a tenuous grasp upon Summoning wandlessly, and was beginning to make progress with levitation. _'Maybe I can start on Banishing if I get good enough at Summoning in the next little while.' _Harry mulled over his rag-tag 'training schedule' which would lead to his ultimate goal of becoming a superhero.

As he lay in bed that evening, staring at the blank white ceiling, a sudden thought occurred to him: He needed a name.

"But what should it be?" he whispered to himself. "Anything ending with 'man' won't do; s'been far too overused. Should be something related to my powers or appearance… Bolt? No, too obvious. I wouldn't have a secret identity for ten minutes once the magic world got wind of it. The Magician? Nah, lame. Sorcerer Supreme's a no-go; sounds kinda cheesy and Marvel could sue me for copyright infringement." Harry ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"Dammit, this is harder than some of my spells!" he cursed softly. He thought back to some of the books he had read at the school library when he was a child for influence; stories of mythical creatures and the brave warriors and archmages who battled them…

'… _That's it!' _Harry exclaimed mentally. The title was indicative of a powerful individual, but didn't necessarily point to magic being the source; it was simple, but it was striking at the same time. It would be the name of a superhero that would rock both worlds for years to come.

Archmage.

* * *

**And there we have the first chapter of my Superhero Harry Potter fic, 'Archmage'!**

**I only know of one other particularly good Superhero! Harry fic, and it's called 'Harry Potter Superhero' by ckil. Look it up (after you R&R of course)! As always:**

**Tell me whether you liked this installment**

**Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this installment**

**Tell me what you specifically DIDN'T like about this installment**

**Recommend a suitable improvement**

**Extra: Send me suggestions on what Harry's costume should look like**

**Extra pt. 2: The suggestions must be very detailed, and be somewhat magic-looking**

**Extra pt. 3: If your suggestion is inspired by something else, please tell me where I can find an image of it.**

**Reminder: See my profile for info on my 'Internecivus raptus' Challenge fic**


	2. In the Beginning

**Archmage**

**By: Dirty Reid**

**A.N.: Hello again. Wow! 55 reviews (as of September 21)! I must be doing something right! Now, to address a few choice reviews:**

**The Gasman: No, DVDs weren't available in 1996, but you'll note that in my pre-chapter AN, I said that I would be shifting the timeline to the present day.**

**Tellemicus Sundance: I hadn't planned to allow Harry to use wandless spells more complex than Summoning, Banishing and Levitation. I was planning on having him cultivate the image of a superhero with mainly telekinetic powers, but with a few other little tricks thrown in there.**

**Bikiluf: I agree, a custom wand is a rather overused plotline, but it's convenient. And with regards to the Trace, this is called **_**fanon**_** for a reason.**

**Xadro:… Wow, I never really thought about that before. Now that you mention the superhero creating discord by not killing the supervillain argument, you do have a point. But when did I ever say that Harry's going to be just another bleeding-hearted do-gooder in a fancy outfit?**

**Garsdal: Yes, using Mundungus as a way to get around trouble is overused, but like I said in response to Bikiluf, it's convenient.**

**That's enough of that. On to the ass-kicking!**

**Chapter 2: In the Beginning**

* * *

_July 9, 2010_

Things had been going well for Harry in the past two weeks. He had picked up a couple of useful spells from the Auror's spellbook, but had not dared to try them out yet. When he expected Mundungus' snores on Tuesday, he had been sorely disappointed. No using his stolen wand now.

Instead, he drew up a workout schedule. If he was going to be a superhero, even if he relied upon his magic, he needed to be able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. As such, his workout consisted of twenty-five push-ups, followed by twenty-five sit-ups and twenty minutes of lifting Dudley's weights. After a ten minute break, he would go out for a run around Privet Drive and the nearby area.

While he was not the fittest boy in the world, four years of Quidditch had done his physique some good, in addition to the laborious chores his aunt and uncle forced him to perform (Speaking of them, they had extended their vacation, and would not be back until the twenty-fifth of July).The result was Harry already having a slight, but wiry frame, which made it less difficult than he had anticipated performing his workout schedule. To ensure results of physical fitness, every day Harry forced himself to crank out five more push-ups and sit-ups, add another five minutes of lifting Dudley's weights every other day, and run to a more distant part of the neighbourhood.

At the end of the week, Harry was sore all over. He couldn't walk without wincing at the pain in his shins; it hurt to crash down on Uncle Vernon's leather office chair, and he could barely move his fingers to use the keyboard and surf the 'Net for costume ideas.

Imagining the image of the Archmage had proven tricky for Harry. While he wanted his alter ego to have some magical influence in his look, he didn't want to have anything glaringly obvious, such as voluminous robes or a pointed hat and a staff. As such, he started searching the Internet for an article of clothing that would not only decrease the obviousness that he was a wizard, but that would give him an air of badassery. Badassery was very important to him.

After almost fifteen minutes of surfing online shopping sites, the image of a black leather duster hit the proverbial jackpot in Harry's mind. While not necessarily a hallmark of someone magical, the shin length black coat had its ties to things dark and paranormal. The description stated that the coat had two outside pockets and four inside pockets; plenty of room for hiding any gadgets or weapons he might eventually pick up. While the price was rather high, Dudley had, in a rather stupid move, left his wallet behind. In an equally stupid move, he had placed a small slip of paper into it with his credit card's PIN on it, as he was unable to remember it otherwise. Harry wondered how big of a gasket Petunia and Vernon would blow when they got Dudley's bill and were forced to pay almost €400 for a leather duster coat they did not order, with an additional €50 as a 'Rush Delivery' charge. As an afterthought, Harry searched for and purchased a set of steel-studded leather gloves for the inevitable punch-outs he would find himself in when he began fighting crime, as well as a set of calf-length, strap-up leather combat boots. Another €75.

Afterwards, Harry renewed his search for something robe-like. During many of his aching moments before sleep, he had been thinking of what he wanted the Archmage to look like. He did not want to look overly wizardly, but he did not want to be a loon in tights either. After some time, he had thought 'Why not bring out the best of both worlds?' He had found his Muggle effect, now he had to move onto the magical.

Finding something robe-like that would not hinder his mobility in a fight was extremely tricky. Nothing on the online shopping sight seemed to fit the image he had in mind. Frustrated, Harry closed down the online shopping site he had been perusing, and simply booted up Google to look for robes that might be a good match. For many minutes, he looked and found nothing. But as always, good things came to he who waited.

Just as Harry was about to shut down the computer and get a drink, one particular image caught his eye. As he zoomed in on the image of the long, white-with-red tunic and pants combination he had seen in a video game Dudley owned called _Assassin's Law 2 _or something like that; a grin flittered onto his face. This was _perfect_! He came back down to earth when he realized that there would be no way to get it in the form he desired… unless…

'_It does say 'Robes for __all__ Occasions'.' _Harry thought as he printed out several images of the desired article of clothing. After he shut down the computer, he returned to the living room and opened up _Defense for Veterans_ to a page where a particularly unique and dangerous spell had warranted his immediate attention.

While its true name was something entirely different, in Britain, it was known as the Alibi Enchantment; a perversion of some sort of combat technique used by a warrior who claimed to be from another dimension hundreds of years ago. Its purpose was to create an identical copy of the caster, composed entirely of mana. The copy could eat, sleep, cast spells, and even act like the caster down to the last tic.

The reason it was so dangerous was that it required half the energy in the wizard or witch's core. Few to no spells used that much mana in one instance, and as such, such a drastic drop could cause the caster to pass out. If their core was undeveloped enough, the spell could fail completely, or the drain could make their body begin to shut down. The book noted a little over half a dozen instances where inexperienced wizards and witches had tried the spell, put too much mana into the casting, and died because of it.

Not pleasant.

Harry made sure that he reviewed the wand movements several times before he deemed himself ready to test the spell. Why did he want to try something so risky? Simple. In real life, people were stupid in large groups, but as individuals, they were not so slow. The main characters in comic books seemed to have some sort of ability to deflect people from noticing that they were never around when their alter egos were present. Harry held no illusions that he could fabricate such a charm. Not to mention the few wizards and witches who questioned what they were shown and told would definitely notice his absence when the Archmage appeared.

With that in mind, Harry began the meticulous wand movements required for the Alibi Enchantment. Three twirls counter-clockwise… half-windmill… four jabs in a diamond shape… The movements took almost a full minute before Harry made a cross with the index and middle fingers of both of his hands. As he felt his mana flare, focusing, he gave the verbal command. Another noteworthy point of this spell was that unlike most if not all of the others, whose incantations were in Latin, this one was in Japanese.

"_Kage Bunshin no jutsu_!" Harry called. At first nothing happened. Just as he was about to abandon the hand sign, he suddenly felt as though he was being pulled from both sides. _Hard_.

Then everything went black.

**(Ha ha! Bet you didn't see that coming!****)**

* * *

"Uuuuugh, my head…" Harry groaned softly as he opened his bleary eyes. "What in the names of Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong did I just smoke?" he groaned again as he tried to prop himself up on his arms. He felt as if he had compressed one week of working out into one day. Those had been paying off nicely; he noted as his minutely larger muscles stretched to raise himself off the ground. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. When it did, his heart almost stopped.

Not three feet away was an identical copy of him. The copy too, had awoken and was staring at his doppelgänger. For several moments, neither said anything.

"… Well, this is surreal." Harry finally managed to comment. The doppelgänger chuckled.

"Amen to that, Boss." The copy replied. Harry worked out his tense muscles and turned to ready himself for another excursion.

"You know the drill?" he asked his copy. Said construct nodded.

"Act like I'm taking the day off." The clone answered with a thumbs-up. Harry grinned as he retrieved his Invisibility Cloak and crept out of his open window, printed pictures stowed away, for another trip to Diagon Alley.

Things finally seemed to be turning in his favour.

"Again, thank you for not telling anyone I was here, Master Rustblade." Harry thanked his goblin escort as he exited the Cart Room, which led to the vaults. Rustblade, tall by goblin standards (four-and-a-half feet) grunted in reply. Said grunt was a goblin's way of saying a neutral 'You're welcome'. Harry had returned to Gringotts to withdraw a couple hundred additional Galleons, as he was unsure of how much a custom set of robes, and a custom wand would cost. Taking no chances, he withdrew a very large amount of money. He did not know if this shady wandmaker would try and gyp him, but he would _not_ be caught unprepared.

"Before you leave Mr. Potter, Director Ragnok has requested to see you." Rustblade added. Harry stumbled for a moment, surprised, before he turned to face his escort.

"Why has he requested to see me?" Harry asked, truly perturbed.

"I am not permitted to say. You will have to ask Director Ragnok himself. The stairway to his office is just over there…" Rustblade pointed to a set of couple doors, flanked by two significantly larger goblins in full black plate mail, carrying nasty-looking battle-axes. "Tell the guards who you are, and that Director Ragnok has requested to see you." The escort instructed. Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Master Rustblade." Harry said with a bow. Rustblade grunted again before returning to his own devices. Harry took a deep breath and began a slow, purposeful walk towards the doors. The two guards noticed his approach and stepped towards each other to bar access.

"State your business, wizard." One of them growled. His voice had the quality of two stone blocks grinding together. Harry steeled himself and took a breath.

"I am Harry James Potter. Director Ragnok has requested to see me for reasons unspecified." He said in a rush. The guards stood stoic for a moment, scrutinizing Harry intently. He felt as though he were a specimen under a microscope.

"Proceed, Mr. Potter." The second guard finally ordered, stepping back to his original position. The first mirrored his action with eerie synchronicity. Harry bowed to both of them before moving to ascend the staircase. It was rather short, and ended at a rich, mahogany set of double doors. Harry took another breath and knocked three times.

"Enter!" sounded a crisp bark. Harry gently opened the doors and was treated to the sight of a small, tastefully done office. The floors and wall were entirely composed of marble that matched the main floor of Gringotts, and were interspersed with plants Harry was unfamiliar with. The back end of the office was one enormous window, granting a spectacular view of the alley. Harry almost whistled when his eyes were drawn to the mahogany desk, and a goblin he assumed was Director Ragnok.

Ragnok was even taller than Rustblade, standing at five feet. While most goblins kept their hair short or shaved it all, the Director had wound his greying mane into a braid that reached almost to his waist. He wore a set of crisp, black robes that were tailored to fit him very snugly, making his fiendish figure all that much more frightening. Harry was, indeed, rather intimidated as he bowed low.

"You requested to see me, Director Ragnok?" Harry asked, controlling his voice as best he could. Ragnok was silent for a moment.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. We were about to send you a notice requesting your presence, but as you were conveniently here today, you have spared me the trouble." He answered, giving Harry the creepiest smile he had ever seen.

"Umm… You're welcome?" he said uncertainly. The creepy smile remained.

"Do not be so nervous, Mr. Potter, you have saved some of my time. For that, I am grateful. Please, have a seat." Ragnok indicated a single chair in front of the desk. As Harry inspected it, he discovered that it was composed of dragon hide and very comfortable as he sank in a few inches.

"So, how may I help you today, Director?" Harry asked, with his tone carefully measured.

"The purpose of this meeting, Mr. Potter, is the reading of the Last Will and Testament of one Sirius Orion Black III." Ragnok explained. Harry's pupils shrank and his heart quickened.

"Shouldn't there be more people here?" Harry asked. Ragnok's creepy smile lessened slightly.

"Yes, but unfortunately, both Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks cited that they were unable to attend, due to 'pressing issues'. As such, we will send them notices to inform them of the proceedings." (_'He only included three people in his will?' _Harry wondered) Ragnok answered shortly before pulling a roll of parchment from his desk, sealed with wax and the Black family crest indented in the red seal. Ragnok opened the will, and Harry's heart began to race as the goblin began to read.

_Harry, Remus and Nymphadora,_

_If you're hearing this, then I've clearly rode off into the Great Beyond. I can only hope it's either from old age, or after being shot down on the battlefield in a blaze of glory. If it's the latter, I'm sorry I couldn't have stayed with you longer. I'm especially sorry to you, Harry._

_I've never really been one for flowery prose, so I'll write from my heart:_

_Remus, of all the Marauders, I always knew I could trust you to do the right thing. And if the war is still going on, I trust that you will either be part of the troupe that takes down that sorry sack of s*** Voldemort, or you will, to coin a Muggle phrase, 'Go down with your guns blazing'. I hope your situation turns out to be the former._

_But I digress. To you, Remus John Lupin, I leave the total sum of 15 000 Galleons. Buy yourself some nice clothes, find a girl, and for Merlin's sake Moony, get laid!_

Ragnok stopped to smirk at the last line addressed to Remus. Harry outright chuckled.

_Nymphadora… I know you hate that name, but for legal reasons, I have to use it. Of all my relatives, you come second to Andy (sorry).__ You've done spectacularly in your career as an Auror, and I expect you to keep doing so. Make me proud, Tonks._

_To you, Nymphadora Cassiopeia Tonks, I also leave the total sum of 15 000 Galleons. In addition, I, as Head of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black, do hereby reinstate you and your mother into the family, and hereby welcome Theodore Tonks into the house._

_And finally, Harry. I have to say pup, I almost cried when I wrote this part. I'm sorry I was barely there for you all of your life, but being locked up in Azkaban without any help from Dumbledore's the excuse I have for you. Life's a bitch like that. I know it probably won't happen, but I promise you I'll try to garner you some divine favour to help you against Voldemort. Never forget that I love you Harry, and even when I'm gone, I'll never stop believing in you._

_Finally, to you Harry James Potter, I leave the remainder of my vault (No. 117); a total of approximately 70 000 Galleons…_

Ragnok stopped reading when Harry failed to breathe for a moment.

_And the Black Family Ring. Understand Harry, this entails several things: Should you choose to accept it, you will be named the Head of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black. As such, you will be recognized as an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding World immediately.__ You will also be responsible for managing the affairs of the House. That means you can pick and choose who is let into the house, and who isn't. You will also claim a seat on the Wizengamot, although I suggest you study politics first. Another nice perk is that you will be shown favouritism by the courts. Corrupt governments are kinda nice when they're corrupt in your favour, eh?_

_The last item I leave you is my flying motorcycle. The instructions on how to use it are magically imprinted into it, and will transfer to you when you first get on it._

_Party on, pup._

_Sirius Orion Black III_

Harry didn't know what to think. Very slowly though, giddiness crept through him.

'_I am LOADED! I could buy a goddamn mansion as my hideout… No, too obvious. It has to be somewhere no one would expect me to hide. And hey! Emancipation! Take THAT, Ministry of Motherfuckers!__ And a flying motorcycle! Now I don't have to worry about finding a sweet 'Magemobile' on my own!'_ Harry couldn't help it; he rubbed his hands together and cackled evilly. Ragnok raised an eyebrow. Harry caught himself and straightened back up.

"Ahem, sorry. Caught up in the moment." He explained. With another creepy smile, Ragnok nodded.

"What will you do now Mr. Potter?" he asked. Harry answered immediately.

"Can I get the ring, please?" he asked. Ragnok opened his desk and withdrew an envelope. He cracked the wax seal and out fell a ring. The body was made of pure gold, and the jewel was shining obsidian. Around the ring was the Black Family motto, 'Toujours Pur'. Harry took the ring with reverence and placed it on his right index finger. An enormous rush coursed through his body as arcane magics recognized him as the new Lord of the House of Black.

As Harry's eyes rolled back to their normal position, he was treated to another of Ragnok's creepy smiles.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Potter?" he asked, no small hint of amusement in his voice. Harry shook his head.

"No. I have a few other things to take care of, so I must leave you now."

"Very well. Just as a note, the motorcycle is within the vault, should you desire it."

"Thank you," Harry rose and turned to walk away. He stopped dead when he remembered to _always_ bid goblins farewell with their saying: 'May your gold always flow and together may we gain much profit.'

It was only then that what Harry considered his craziest idea to date presented itself. He suppressed a grin and turned back to Ragnok.

"Though I am sure your customary farewell does not get old, I shall leave you with a new one." Harry stated. Ragnok must have been surprised, as one of his bushy eyebrows quirked and his creepy smile grew tight.

"… And what may that be?" he asked carefully. Harry gulped, attempting to keep a straight face. He slowly raised his right hand, palm forward. His thumb was split from the main part of his hand, and his four fingers were forked, with two on each side.

"… Live long and prosper." Harry managed. Ragnok stared at him for a moment without a readable expression on his face… not that Harry could have read the goblin's expression anyways. He almost died of shock when the creepy smile returned in full force, and Ragnok mirrored his hand sign.

"Live long and prosper." He echoed the Vulcan Spock's traditional farewell. Harry lowered his hand, bowed, and left Ragnok's office quickly.

Little did he know that he had changed the goblin's customs forever.

* * *

'_Alright, here we go.'_ Harry said, again disguised as Thomas Nast. He had converted a good deal of his gold to Euros, as he would need them for another few of his purchases. As he entered Madam Malkin's, he was immediately assaulted by the smell of fresh robes, and a barrage of colours. As he looked at some fancy looking dress robes for a few moments, he missed Madam Malkin's approach. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she cleared her throat.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Harry placed his hand over his heart to still it, and breathed slowly.

"_Good God, she scared me…"_ he said under his breath. "Yes, I believe you can." He answered, deepening his voice slightly. "I actually came here with a question for you. Can you make custom robes?" he asked. The wizened old woman blinked.

"My shop clearly says 'Robes for _all_ Occasions' young man." She affirmed. Harry grinned.

"Excellent. In that case, I have several photographs right here." He procured the printed images of the white hooded tunic and pants from the video game his cousin adored. Madam Malkin looked over the photographs silently for a few moments.

"This will not be a problem." She said. Harry let out a breath.

"Good. Actually, I was wondering if instead of an exact replica of these images, could you make it all black with red trim? And change the symbol on the belt to this?" Harry handed her a carefully hand-drawn image of an A and an M, joined together. Madam Malkin nodded.

"Of course. Will you want any charms on it?" She asked. This gave Harry pause.

"You can do that?" he asked, surprised and very interested. Madam Malkin simply jerked her head at the sign in her window.

"Right, robes for all occasions. Hmm, let's see… Are there any charms that can lessen the effect of spells cast against me?" he asked. Madam Malkin nodded.

"A Dampening Charm. It doesn't stop the spells, but it makes them easier to resist or lessens the effect." She explained.

"Definitely useful, so yes. Umm, let's see… An Unbreakable Charm would be good. _'Can't have the robes getting torn up or me getting shot now, can I?' _As well as some sort of spell to protect me from the elements, if such a thing exists?" Harry asked. Malkin nodded.

"It can. It will take perhaps a week to create the robes and place the enchantments upon them. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. That was a long wait, and he wanted to become the Archmage as soon as possible.

"If you can get it done in five days, I'll give you one hundred bonus Galleons." Harry offered. One of Madam Malkin's eyebrows shot up.

"Deal." She said with a grin. Harry smiled to himself as he stood for Madam Malkin's nearly excessive measurements of him before leaving the shop. Time for a gander down Knockturn Alley. Even though he was a legal adult, he still wanted to be sure he left no tracks connecting him to the Archmage. And he wanted a badass wand.

* * *

Knockturn Alley was creepy, and Fontaine's Custom Wands was no exception. The wood was black, the brick was black, and even the writing was black. Harry's hands nervously drifted to the stolen wand in his pocket as he opened the creaky door. The interior of the shop was dim, but bright enough to illuminate the dozens of wand boxes, and various other items in the shop.

"Help you?" a grating voice with a thick accent originating from somewhere in America drawled from the dark. Harry startled as he whipped around to lay eyes on the bored-looking bald man with muddy brown eyes. He wore a crisp Muggle suit, which surprised Harry greatly. He, the man Harry assumed was Fontaine, looked more like a con man than a wand crafter.

"You's here for a wand, ain'tcha." Fontaine stated, as appose to asking. Harry, not trusting his voice in front of such an oddball, simply nodded.

"Right. C'mere." Fontaine beckoned Harry further back into the shop. Reluctantly, he followed. The wand crafter made his way to two small tables with multiple wooden boxes on them.

"So… what, no questions about why I want a custom wand or who I am?" Harry asked in an attempt to break the silence.

"Nope. It ain't any o' my business knowin' who you is and what you wanna do with this wand." Fontaine answered dismissively. Harry felt offended, but he didn't show it.

"First order o' business: place your hand over this row o' boxes," Fontaine pointed at the row closest to Harry. "And you'll feel a tingle when you get the right stuff for the core."

Rather bewildered by the task he was assigned, Harry placed his hands over the box on the far right side of the table. Nothing happened. Harry moved his hand slowly over the next box, and still nothing happened. The process repeated itself until Harry felt a tingle in his arm when his hand hovered over the fifth box in the row of eight. Fontaine, seeing Harry pause, stepped forwards and lifted the lid from the box. Inside was a long ivory shard of some sort.

"Hmm, Quetzalcoatl bone. Good for offensive spells an' wards." Fontaine said in response to the core Harry had found.

"Isn't a Quetzalcoatl… I dunno, kinda dark?" Harry asked, knowing that a Quetzalcoatl was a feathered serpent of questionable alignment. Fontaine shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to me, s'long as it makes good wands." He answered dismissively. Harry couldn't help but feel that having a wand core from a potentially dark creature might reflect upon his own soul.

"Now you's gotta find the right body. Same drill." Fontaine indicated the second table. This time, Harry felt a tingle over the second box he placed his hand. Fontaine said nothing as he opened the box. The chunk of wood was off-white, and seemed to have flecks of gold in it.

"Mallorn wood. Not easily breakable. Found only on the lost island of Avalon." Fontaine analyzed. Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"… If Avalon's a lost island, how'd you find a tree from it?" he asked.

"Got it off some half-crazed traveler. He was dead before I could ask him where Avalon was." Fontaine answered briskly. Knowing he wouldn't get any further information, Harry shrugged.

"So that's it?" he asked. Fontaine shook his bald head.

"Gimme your wand arm," He ordered. Harry hesitantly stuck his arm out and startled when Fontaine seized his wrist and tapped it with his black wand. A trail of smoke oozed out of Fontaine's wand and coalesced into the number ten.

"Mallorn an' Quetzalcoatl bone, ten inches, strong. Should be ready in about five days." Fontaine informed him.

"Huh, what a coincidence." Harry muttered to himself. Fontaine appeared to have heard, but said nothing as Harry purchased a wrist holster before walking out of the store.

* * *

It was a nice day out, prompting Harry to take a short stroll through London. The hustle of Muggles in their suits and dresses and designer clothes, mixed with the smell of car exhaust and cigarette smoke served as a not pleasant, but not unpleasant change from the magical world.

Another part of his stroll through Muggle London was to attempt to locate a suitable hideout. If Harry knew anything about the DMLE, it was that they would expect a wizard prone to public displays of magic to hide in a wizarding home. If they thought otherwise, well, with some of the wards Harry had been learning, they would at least be thrown off for a while.

'_Fidelius is a given. __Unplottable and Anti-Apparition too, but only because I don't know how to do it. That Sensory Ward looks interesting. It'd be good to know if I have company. What else…?' _Harry pondered on which wards he would use on his hideout when the rows of shops stopped to give way to something much larger; something that made Harry stop.

It was an old, run down church. Its dust grey bricks were riddled with cracks, stains and graffiti where it wasn't covered by scaffolding. Its stained glass windows were faded and dirty, but mostly intact. It expanded into another section near the back of the lot, compounded by a large bell tower. Everything about this church screamed 'Abandonment'.

It was a perfect place for a superhero to hide.

Harry grinned before tapping his holstered wand against himself and muttering the incantation for a Notice-Me-Not Charm. Once it was in place, Harry began walking towards the church. From the signs of the tools and cans of solidified paint near a pulley system, Harry guessed that the church had in fact been abandoned by both parishioners and construction workers. Looking behind him to make sure that no one was paying attention to him, Harry cracked open the large wooden door and slipped into the church.

It was fairly dark, and a thin layer of dust coated everything. The pews were faded and the varnish had vanished in multiple places. The altar was littered with pages from a Bible and pieces of broken candelabras. A cracked lightswitch caught Harry's eye and he flipped it, grinning when the electric chandelier in the rafters, the lamps on the altar and the lights in the choir loft flickered to life. He opened the door to the priest's sect of the church and began to search about. There was an office with a desk and an uncomfortable-looking chair in it, but it also had power. With a couple tries, Harry managed to change the ratty old chair into a squishy leather lazyboy. Adjacent to the office was an empty room which, Harry thought, could be used to store a fridge he planned to move in, as well as some medical supplies and some entertainment.

The bell tower could be where he kept Sirius' motorcycle, AKA the 'Magemobile'. _'With a little fine tuning, this place will make a great hideout… Hmm… Archmage… tall tower… The Mage's Roost. Not a bad title. Harry Potter, you are a genius!' _Harry cackled to himself as he descended the tower and exited the church, casting a feeble Muggle-Repelling Charm on the front door of the church. He still had a few things to do.

* * *

"Everything go okay Boss?" 'Harry' asked after Harry slipped off his cloak and set down the other things he had seen to purchasing: A black Dell Inspiron Mini and a Mobile Internet stick. He had used cash to pay for the merchandise (eliciting a raised eyebrow from the employee who assisted him), as well as a year's worth of Internet access. How long he was going to be the Archmage for was unknown, but he figured he wouldn't be stopping for quite a while.

"Yep. Found all the stuff I needed, scoped out a decent hideout, and inherited this." Harry answered, removing the ring from his finger and passing it to his duplicate. Said duplicate looked over it with a cocked eyebrow.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The Black Family ring. We are officially the new Lord Black." Harry declared. 'Harry' grinned.

"Does that include a sweet benefits package?" he asked.

"You bet it does. Emancipation, a seat on the Wizengamot once we study politics and favour in the courts." Harry explained. "For the moment though, I want you to keep this secret."

"Okay, done. Oh, by the way Boss, I was reading up on the Alibi Enchantment, and I found some things you didn't read over."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"The book says I can absorb ambient mana unconsciously from my environment, so when I take your place at Hogwarts, I should last for the whole year."

Harry knew that he would never be able to juggle his duties as a superhero _and_ attend Hogwarts. His lucky streak though, had led him to find the Alibi Enchantment, so the problem was solved to a point; there was still the problem of missing out on his schooling.

"I also discovered that when I'm dispelled on your command, or destroyed, any knowledge I've gained is immediately transferred to you. So say you were somehow able to travel instantly to Hogwarts and back, you could dispel me on a weekly basis and not have to worry about missing school." 'Harry' added with a smile. Harry was dumbstruck; this was all working out _perfectly_!

"My only problem is that I can't use too much magic in a short period of time, otherwise I won't be able to sustain myself, even with being able to absorb ambient mana. I can't take any serious injuries either, because diverting too much mana to heal myself could cause my body to collapse." 'Harry' rattled off. That was a problem.

"We've managed to pull through worse by the seat of our pants." Harry dismissed. It felt weird to refer to himself as 'we'. _'I sound like Venom, just without the spider powers and the craziness.' _"So any future replicas of me will have to remember: No excessive use of magic, and try to avoid physical injury. Anyways, did you find or learn anything else particularly useful while I was out?" Harry asked. His clone nodded.

"Yeah!" he affirmed before dispelling himself with a _pop_ and a small flash of light. Harry stilled as a plethora of memories entered his brain.

He remembered practicing the Summoning and Banishing Charm a few times with results marginally better than a week ago. The Levitation Charm was coming along nicely, and he remembered combining it with a Locomotion Spell to move himself slowly around the room. He stopped practicing magic before he ran out of energy and began to search through the Auror Spellbook for anything useful. He remembered finding the incantation for the Disillusionment Charm, and thought to himself that it reminded him of a cloaking device used by a Predator or an Elite from _Halo_.

'_That'll be useful for stalking people or making a quick getaway.'_ Harry noted. The memory of finding the Advanced Shield Charm was also there. It was the charm Voldemort had used to conjure that silver shield during his skirmish with Dumbledore at the Ministry. There was also the Cleaving Curse, which was basically a Severing Charm that was strong enough to cut stone. And finally, the Distortion Jinx, which made the recipient of the jinx feel dizzy and distort their vision, making it nigh impossible for them to keep track of their opponents in a fight.

Wards and multiple offensive spells to practice…

It was gonna be a long rest of the week.

* * *

_July 21, 2010_

Harry threw a one-two punch as he admired his brand new black duster and studded gloves in the bathroom mirror. The rush delivery package had arrived two days previously. Since then, Harry had cast a Feather-Light Charm on the coat and the boots (which he wasn't wearing) so they would hinder him less.

'_It's all coning together. Pretty soon, I'll be in business.' _He thought later as he once again exited Gringotts- Sirius' now toy-sized motorcycle in his pocket- disguised as Thomas Nast. Again, he passed through Diagon Alley with utter anonymity.

"Ah, Mr. Nast." Madam Malkin greeted him as he entered her shop. "You're just in time; I had just finished the last Charm on your robes." Harry moved in closer, curious about the robes.

They were perfect. He knew the moment he slipped them on. From the pointed hood to the modified belt, all the way down to the Gryffindor red edges. Harry gave his verdict and handed over a total of three-hundred-and-six Galleons, twelve Sickles and two Knuts.

"Have a nice day Mr. Nast." Malkin bade him with a small wave as he left the shop. _'Oh I will,' _Harry thought with a grin. A grin that didn't leave his face even as he strode down Knockturn Alley and all the way to Fontaine's Custom Wands.

"Right on time, kid." Fontaine stated without looking up from whittling away at a block of ebony wood. "Wand's in that box there." He pointed at a lacquered black box with a gold 'FCW' logo emblazoned on it. Still a little put out at Fontaine's lackadaisical attitude, Harry took the box and opened it up. There was his new wand. A light layer of varnish coated the off-white Mallorn wood, which thrummed softly as Harry took a hold of its hilt which, Harry noted with surprise, was wrapped in a thin leather strip.

"Test it on one o' those targets over there." Fontaine vaguely waved at three mannequin heads on sticks. Harry leveled his wand at the centre target.

"_Confringo_!" Harry commanded, the Blasting Curse shooting out of his wand as a small white ball of destruction. It impacted with the head, exploding it with a flash of fire and sending bits and pieces of padding flying everywhere. Much to Harry's surprise, the pieces quickly flew back up and mended themselves. The head looked as though it had never been hit within three seconds of being blown apart.

"Works well. Sixteen Galleons please," Fontaine put down his wood and set his eyes upon Harry, who promptly handed over the money and replaced his new wand in its case.

"Thanks," Harry said with a nod of his head.

"No problem." Fontaine answered, cracking a stiff grin that was as creepy as he was.

* * *

"You… are fuckin' _awesome!_" Harry said in a deep rasp- much like Christian Bale when he played Batman- as he stared at his reflection. He had put on his hooded robe and covered it with his duster cloak, as well as strapped up his boots and slipped on his gloves. To add another layer of security, he kept his 'Thomas Nast' Glamour on, painted black circles around his eyes and Transfigured his glasses into a black latex mask with invisible, Unbreakable lenses that he then stuck to his face. Later, as he practiced speaking in his 'Archmage' voice, he pointed to random objects in his near blacked-out living room and Summoned them before quickly Banishing them. He was getting to be pretty good at that. He had attempted to have a Levitation Charm working at the same time, but he quickly discovered that he was nowhere near that focused.

'_Can't have everything, I guess.' _Harry thought as he tapped on his laptop's small keyboard, cruising about MySpace to create an account. "Lemme see here… www… dot… MySpace dot com… slash The Archmage… Yeah, that'll work. Profile Information… let's see…" Harry stopped to think for a moment. His fingers slowly began to work:

_I am a masked crime fighter with psychokinetic powers operating out of London, England. If __you or anyone else you know is suffering from a problem (i.e., harassment, threats from another party, abuse, etc.), please contact me- or have that person contact me- and leave the following information:_

_Your name_

_Your situation (please be detailed)_

_Somewhere I can meet you_

_I will do my very best to help you in any way I possibly can. Just remember: You are not alone._

_For a fairer world,_

_The Archmage._

Harry finished his short message and went about the other details of creating his Archmage MySpace profile; silver and red letters that slanted and spelled out 'Archmage', and a dark cityscape as a background picture. As he finished on the small details, he saved his profile, ejected his new wand from its wrist holster and, through the now less-excruciating process cast the Alibi Enchantment. He managed to keep from blacking out this time as an identical Archmage clone came into existence. Harry handed the clone Dudley's cell phone.

"You know what to do." Harry instructed before tilting his hooded head, replacing his wand in its holster and gripping the business end of his wand, cast a very weak _Lumos_ Charm. Given that his wand was only reaching his wrist, it looked as though the Archmage was holding a small orb of light. The effect was that it shone under Harry's hood, allowing his masked face to be seen, creating a sinister but badass image. The clone fumbled with the cell phone for a moment before snapping the picture and using Dudley's email to send the picture to his MySpace Inbox. The clone deleted the picture, set the phone down upon the table and dispelled itself. Harry quickly opened the email and posted the image as his profile's display picture.

'_Not a bad day's work.' _Harry congratulated himself as he stared at his mostly black, silver and red MySpace profile before shutting down his computer, carefully shrinking it and placing it in his trunk along with some of his clothing and most of his magic supplies. Over the next fifteen minutes, he went about the Dursley household, unplugging and shrinking things such as the 50' flatscreen, DVD player and the cable box, the spotless dinner and coffee tables and their complementary chairs, the refrigerator and Dudley's king-sized bed. It went either into his trunk, which was also later shrunk, or one of Vernon's spare luggage bags. Why was he stealing all of this stuff from the Dursleys?

It was payback time.

* * *

_July 25, 2010_

"BOY! Get down here and help us!" Vernon Dursley shouted as he hefted his large luggage case into his home. His horse-like wife Petunia and whale of a son Dudley followed, each carrying their own bags. That had just power-driven from the airport, and were feeling particularly stressed. This would usually translate to extra trouble for Harry. Not anymore.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE!" Vernon bellowed. No answer.

"Hey freak! If you don't help us with our luggage, I'll-" Dudley stopped himself when he heard a slow and steady thumping. The three Dursleys looked towards their kitchen and collectively stopped breathing when someone in a black and red robe, a leather duster coat, black boots and gloves and a mask came around the corner, glaring at them hatefully.

"Might wanna stop running your mouth, you fat fuck. I've had enough of it." He rasped coldly. Dudley swallowed nervously.

"W-Who are you? Why are you in my house?" Vernon demanded, some of his old bluster returning. The hooded figure shifted his icy blue eyes to the elder Dursley.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised; you never were very smart, _Uncle_." The man spat the word 'Uncle' like it left a terrible taste in his mouth. Petunia's eyes widened at the use of that title.

"You!" she hissed, despite being unable to see beneath the disguise. Harry looked over at her and grinned without sincerity.

"Me. Harry _fucking_ Potter: The Boy-Who-Got-Payback." Harry rasped with a nasty laugh.

"Payback? What are you talking about? Why are you dressed like that?" Dudley asked, confused as to how the masked man before him was his cousin. Harry's grin did not waver.

"Sixteen years… Sixteen long years, I've been forced to endure your endless hatred and torment, all because you couldn't accept that I was better than you." Harry began.

"Better than-" Vernon began to sputter indignantly, turning red.

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. Fear crept even further into Vernon's piggy eyes as he complied. Harry began to stalk forwards.

"That all stops tonight. You took pleasure in seeing me being alone and defeated; you take pleasure in being 'normal' when you are anything but. You three are nothing more than obsessive-compulsive, xenophobic _animals_ who despise anyone who does not fit your definition of normal. Your lives and memories of normalcy are your pleasures: And it is through the complete obliteration of those lives that I will exact my revenge." Harry grinned even wider as a clone of him joined the Dursley and Archmage standoff in the hallway.

"What? How…?" Petunia stuttered.

"Although before I go, I must thank you for the TV, fridge and furniture. I'll be sure to put it to good use." Harry said as an afterthought. Vernon had progressed from red to purple.

"YOU STOLE FROM US? HOW DARE YOU-"

"ENOUGH!" Harry roared over his uncle, the unrestrained anger causing the lights to flicker. He jerked his head to his clone.

"Have fun." He said before he thrust his open hand towards the kitchen, summoning a Portkey-enchanted pen and vanishing for The Mage's Roost.

"What the-? Where did he-" Dudley started before 'Harry glared at them.

"Say goodbye to the lives you knew, Dursley family. _Tabula Rasa_ (1)!"

* * *

It was just over two hours later when Harry finished placing all of his furniture in its proper places within his church. He had cast the Fidelius correctly on his first try, and managed to erect the Anti-Apparition and Detection wards just over half an hour ago. He grinned as he ascended the staircase of his belfry and stroked the well-polished, new red finish of Sirius' motorcycle, which looked even cooler than it had in his dream about it when he was eleven.

'_It's gonna be so much fun to fly this thing around the country.' _Harry gushed inwardly. He looked out across London, the wind kicking out the tails of his duster and fluttering his robe. The Archmage smirked smugly:

The time would soon come when he would rock the world forever.

* * *

**Finally! Sorry about the lack of action, but I promise you that there will be ass-kickings in the next chapter. Please:**

**Tell me whether or not you liked this installment.**

**Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this installment**

**Tell me what you DIDN'T like about this installment (don't be shy if you do!)**

**Recommend a suitable improvement**

**Extra: Identify all of the references and people from other series I used in this chapter **

_**Tabula Rasa**_**: Latin for 'Clean Slate' and my own original spell: The Obliteration Charm. It erases the target's entire memory of themselves and anything that happened in their lives. It's basically a super Memory Charm, but it's not for just making someone forget one thing; it's for making them forget **_**everything**_**.**

**NOTICE: I know for a fact that some people will have a hard time imagining what Harry looks like. Basically, he's wearing a mask with Ezio's robes and Spike's duster (From Buffy the Vampire Slayer). If anyone who reads this has a DeviantArt account and is feeling lucky, please let me know if you decide to draw up a picture of Harry/Archmage, so I can post a link in my profile.**

**Live long and prosper,**

**Dirty Reid**


	3. The Start of Something

**Archmage**

**By: Dirty Reid**

**A.N.: Hello again, peeps! I know I should be working on 'A Swordsman's Road' right now, but I just can't stop writing about Superhero Harry!**

**More than a few reviewers have said that the last chapter felt incomplete or Gary Stu-ish. I agree, but I was really eager to get to this chapter, so I kind of rushed it. To my loyal fans, sorry if I let you down with the last chapter, but I promise to make it up with this one.**

**Thank you all for trying to guess all of the references I made in Ch. 2. Unfortunately, NOBODY has gotten them all. So here they are:**

**-Thomas Nast: Minor character from the 'Women of the Otherworld' series.  
****Okay, I admit, this one is rather obscure, so I probably shouldn't count it.**

**-Naruto: The slightly modified Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.  
****EVERYONE got this one.**

**-Assassin's Creed 2: The modified version of Ezio's robes.  
****No further words need be said.**

**-Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike's duster.  
**'**Nuff said.**

**I didn't mean for this to be in there, but I guess Sirius' vault number (117) could be seen as a reference to Halo ****(BTW, Reach is worth every penny it costs, so BUY IT!).**

**-Live long and prosper: Spock from Star Trek's signature line.  
****Again, no explanation needed.**

**-Fontaine: Identical in every way to Frank Fontaine from BioShock.  
****C'mon people! I practically SCREAMED the identity of this guy, and only ClanCrusher made the connection! Drawling American accent? Seemed like a con man? Bald and lackadaisical? Are NONE of you fans of BioShock?**

**-Kick-Ass: Harry's use of MySpace to advertise himself.  
****A lot of people have said that this wasn't a good addition to the story. Allow me to point out that many members of www (dot) reallifesuperheroes (dot) org use MySpace as their primary email address. And no, I am NOT turning Archmage into a Kick-Ass parody.**

**As an additional note, several people have noted that Harry is not acting like a superhero, most notably in the 'Tabula Rasa' scene. I justify my writing by saying that no one is above a little payback, Harry knows being a bleeding heart won't cut it, and that I have the Almighty Author Powers.**

**But I digress. You came for entertainment, and that's what I'm gonna give you.**

**Chapter 3: The Start of Something**

* * *

_July 26, 2010_

"Mr. Potter?"

'Harry', sitting at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, jerked his head right to see a pair of men in cloaks emblazoned with the symbol of the Auror Corps upon them.

'_Crap in a hat.' _'Harry' thought. "If this is about what I'm pretty sure it's about, then I refuse to give a statement until Albus Dumbledore is present." He told the two men. Said men blinked.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter, although we would prefer to discuss this incident in private." Said the second, shorter Auror.

"Agreed," 'Harry' said, sliding off of his stool and eyeing the watching patrons warily. He uncertainly grabbed the first Auror's offered arm, and was quickly treated to the sensation of being squeezed through a very tight tube. 'Harry' had to work very hard to keep his matrix from collapsing, and was treated to the sight of a grizzled and imposing man in fine robes standing alongside Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"… Wow, when I thought about being questioned, I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition." 'Harry' said with a smile, in an attempt to lighten the serious mood. The grizzled man's mouth twitched.

"Now is not the time for jokes, Mr. Potter." Amelia Bones stated seriously. "What you have done is a very serious act that could very well result in criminal prosecution." This got a raised eyebrow from 'Harry'.

"Has someone sent for Dumbledore?" he asked his two escorts. One of them nodded. "Good. I can wait until he arrives." 'Harry' ambled over to a nearby chair and plopped down in it. The grizzled man looked ready to say something, but 'Harry' cut him off.

"I'm not confirming or denying anything until Dumbledore is present Mr.…" he trailed off, not knowing the man's name.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic." Scrimgeour introduced himself gruffly. One of 'Harry's' eyebrows shot up.

"… Damn…" he managed.

_Pop!_ 'Harry's' head jerked to the right, breathing a sigh of relief as the Leader of the Light appeared in the room, twinkling eyes and all.

"Rufus, a pleasure to see you again." Dumbledore greeted the new Minister in that 'chill' voice only he could ever pull off. "How may I be of…" he trailed off when his bespectacled eyes fell upon 'Harry'. The twinkle in his pale eyes dimmed somewhat.

"Harry my boy, what are you doing here?" he asked. 'Harry' shrugged.

"Apparently, I've done something illegal… again." He said with a roll of his eyes. Amelia shot him a quick look and both of the Aurors shook their heads.

"Mr. Potter is here because of his use of magic upon his relatives." Bones informed Dumbledore. The old man in his midnight blue robes cocked his head to the side.

"So that minor flare was not an anomaly…" he muttered more to himself. "I am sure that whatever charm Harry used upon his relatives-" Dumbledore's statement, which was more than likely chock full of how Harry could be forgiven, was stopped by Scrimgeour's sharp interruption.

"Mr. Potter performed the Obliteration Charm upon his guardians and cousin." Was his interruption. Dumbledore's eyes dimmed even more. He looked to Bones, and received only a nod.

"Harry, is this true?" Dumbledore asked. 'Harry' nodded.

"I justify my actions by saying that they deserved it." He answered curtly.

"Harry, no one deserves having their every memory stolen away from them." Dumbledore reprimanded 'Harry' softly. The clone shook his head; he knew that this was coming.

"In _your_ opinion, sir." 'Harry' replied before returning his attention to Bones and Scrimgeour. "So Minister, Director Bones, what's on the docket for little ol' me?"

"Well Mr. Potter, using the Obliteration Charm in such a questionable manner, on Muggles, _and_ underage… That could quite easily translate to a month in Azkaban." Bones stated. While 'Harry' felt his artificial heart begin to speed up and mana-created sweat begin to prickle coldly over his skin, he felt it prudent to ask a question that had immediately popped into his head:

"All that would only get me a month?" he asked. If Scrimgeour and Bones were surprised at his question, they didn't show it.

"Your actions fall into a form of grey area; too serious for a juvenile detention centre, but not serious enough to warrant an extended stay in Azkaban." Bones explained. 'Harry' nodded absently, pondering soundly. He had _really_ hoped that he wouldn't have had to give up this secret so quickly.

"Something to say, Potter?" Scrimgeour asked. 'Harry' nodded.

"Okay, well… I counter the charge of underage wizardry with this." He answered, holding up his right hand where the Black Family ring rested, clearly identifying himself as an adult through emancipation. Scrimgeour and Bones leaned in for a closer look, and both could not help but raise an eyebrow apiece.

"And how did you acquire this item, Lord Black?" Bones asked. Though 'Harry' did not see it, upon hearing the words 'Lord Black', Dumbledore looked as though he had just come face to face with the Grim Reaper.

"It was given to me through the will of my late Godfather, Sirius Black. With that comes my seat on the Wizengamot, but I think I'll hold off on that for now; not really sure I want to get into politics what with some of the people in it turn out." 'Harry' kept a grin when Scrimgeour twitched at the insinuation. Amelia Bones' left cheek spasmed.

"Regardless Mr. Potter, you still performed the _Tabula Rasa_ upon three Muggles. You better have an extremely good reason for conducting yourself in such a manner." She stated. 'Harry' couldn't help but feel that the Slytherin side of him had wrapped around his mind and was twisting him into wanting to enjoy this.

"Well, why don't we let Professor Dumbledore field this one? Being the wisest wizard in the world, I'm sure he can shed some light on my fifteen years in Arkham Asylum for the Innocent." Harry couldn't help but grin a little at the nonplussed looks on Bones and Scrimgeour's faces.

"Muggle pop culture reference. Do some research on Batman when this little debacle is over," Harry informed them. Both turned their attention to Dumbledore.

"Albus, I believe Mr. Potter said you can shed some light on this situation?" Bones asked in a clipped voice. Dumbledore redirected his attention.

"While I knew he would not be the happiest child in the world, it was the safest place for young Harry to be placed. I ensured that-"

"Professor, I'm getting tired of this. Let me give you a little piece of wisdom to cogitate on: You can coat shit in as much gold as you want, but in the end, it's still shit." **(1)** Harry interrupted. Dumbledore turned his pale eyes to the Boy-with-too-many-Nicknames, looking almost curious. Scrimgeour and Bones looked almost amused; the two Auror escorts, who had remained completely silent, were covering their mouths and snickering quietly.

"What are you saying, Mr. Potter?" Bones asked. 'Harry' gave her a sardonic look.

"If 'not being the happiest child in the world' consists of being forced to sleep in a broom cupboard for ten years, going for days without food or drink, being the main subject of a game called 'Harry Hunting' by my fat bastard of a cousin and his fellow pigs, and suffering physical and emotional abuse at the hands of my guardians for 'not being normal', I'd hate to see what you consider a miserable child." 'Harry' snarled coldly. Bones and Scrimgeour looked decidedly perturbed. The two Aurors were openly staring at Dumbledore, who was frowning.

"Be that as it may, Harry, you were safe-"

"Yeah, safe from things _outside_, Professor. That still doesn't change the fact that you protected me from the wolves by sticking me in a den full of bears." 'Harry' cut Dumbledore off with a snap. The old man had the decency to refrain from refuting 'Harry's' statement.

"But if you look at it the right way, using _Tabula Rasa_ on the Dursleys could be seen as doing the world a favour: I just erased the personalities that damned them to being the scum of the Earth. Maybe now, when they develop new personalities, they won't be as evil as they were before." 'Harry' pointed out. The two magical officials whispered softly to each other for a moment.

"These are very serious accusations, Lord Black…" Scrimgeour began, stopping when 'Harry' held his hand up.

"Calling me Harry's fine, Minister. 'Lord Black' makes me feel old." He said with a small smirk. Scrimgeour nodded.

"Very well then, Harry. As I said, these are very serious accusations, and, in the interest of the cohesion of the Wizarding World, Madam Bones has agreed to drop any and all charges that face you upon two conditions." Scrimgeour stated. 'Harry' raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore was looking decidedly uneasy.

"… Name your terms, Minister, Director Bones." 'Harry' answered.

"The first," Bones began, "is that you provide memories of the offences against you to validate your statement." She informed him. 'Harry' nodded.

"Done. And the second?" he asked.

"That you and I have a press-covered sit down, with regards to this war." Scrimgeour stated. This one gave 'Harry' pause. His relationship with the press over the past few years was bad at best.

"Define 'press-covered'." 'Harry' requested slowly. Again, he missed Dumbledore's displeased and fearful look.

"I mean that a hand picked reporter will be covering this meeting. Be assured Mr. Potter that this reporter will not be in possession of any sort of Auto-Answering Quill, and will most certainly not be named Rita Skeeter." Scrimgeour said with a sour look on his grizzled face. 'Harry' pondered for a minute. He quickly looked up as he closed the distance between himself, Bones and Scrimgeour, and held out his hand.

"Minister Scrimgeour, Director Bones, you have a deal." 'Harry' stated. Scrimgeour allowed a small grin as he shook Harry's hand. Madam Bones did not.

* * *

"Harry, I do not believe your decision was a particularly good one. The world of politics is no place for one such as yourself." Dumbledore said quietly to him as he exited the small room, following the two Aurors that were leading him to the Memory Retrieval Room; a room with multiple Pensieves that the DMLE used to review memories while prosecuting criminals.

"Your concerns are duly noted Professor, but I wouldn't be as concerned about my involvement in politics as I would about the hits your reputation's about to take." 'Harry' shot back. Dumbledore's eyes flashed in annoyance.

"The fact remains, Harry that you have invalidated the protections I erected upon your home with a single act of petty anger." He replied coolly. What Dumbledore was not expecting though, was a restrained chuckle.

"I was in just as much danger when I was staying there as I was if I had been completely unprotected, Professor. Or did you fall asleep for that part of my tirade?" 'Harry' asked. Dumbledore said nothing in reply, and stopped just outside of the Memory Retrieval Room when one of the Aurors barred him access.

"I must insist; Harry knows not how to-"

"My colleague will readily show him, Headmaster. Besides, I believe you are familiar with the rules governing an involved party with regards to memory extraction." Said the second Auror. He was referring to the fact that any present party with connections to the memories to be obtained could not be involved with the extraction process. Dumbledore did not look happy, but he acquiesced.

It was a little less than ten minutes later when Harry exited the room. He said nothing to Dumbledore as he returned to Scrimgeour in order to negotiate a meeting time. The elderly man did not show it, but he was growing worried. Harry's desire for independence was growing far more quickly than he had anticipated.

If Harry continued to drift away from him, his carefully orchestrated plan to usher in victory would crumble like an ancient ruin.

* * *

_July 29, 2010_

'_Man, I never imagined patrol would be so damn boring!' _Harry groused as he jogged briskly across the rooftops of nighttime London. To prevent the onset of fatigue and increase his mobility, Harry had cast a mild Feather-Light Charm on himself to decrease his weight. It also aided him greatly in getting places quick, as proven when he jumped a five metre gap between apartment complexes. He had also discovered the charm allowed him to shrug off drops that would have the layman on the ground in pain, and only feel a persistent ache in his shins.

'_Then again, I really have no idea where to look for crimes being committed. I really wish I could kick all those directors' asses for making it seem so easy.' _He continued as he made one final leap, landing on the sloped roof of the Mage's Roost. With a quick spring, he jumped up to the lowest window on the bell tower, cancelled the charms on himself and descended the stairs. With a put-upon sigh, he crashed onto his squishy lazyboy with a can of Coke and relaxed, still in his Archmage getup. A few minutes of sipping the sweet drink later, he picked his laptop up off the _Daily Globe_ on the Dursley coffee table, fired it up, and went to check his MySpace page.

He was incredibly disappointed when he saw that only a few dozen people had viewed his profile. His eyebrow shot up when he saw a recent email in his inbox, and quickly opened it. It was from one Alexandra Eldridge, a young girl from Enfield. Intrigued even further, Harry read her email.

_Dear Archmage, _(_'Aw, how sweet,' _Harry thought)

_My name is Alexandra Eldridge. I'm a summer student at Enfield County School, where I'm constantly harassed by a group of 'popular' girls who aren't afraid to get rough with people they don't like. 'People they don't like' here having the meaning of anyone not like them. They harass me in the morning at 8:00 and when school gets out at 3:00, among other people. I've brought the problem to the teachers and Headmistress, but they haven't done anything about it. I don't want to call the police, because this isn't that big a problem. Can you help me, please?_

_Tomorrow is Friday; could you meet me at the corner of Gentleman's Row and Chapel Street in Enfield County at 7:30a.m so we could talk about solving this problem?_

_Please reply quickly,_

_Alexandra_

'_My first job!' _Harry thought cheerfully as he hit the reply button and typed:

_Ms. Eldridge,_

_Let me first say that it was very mature of you to reveal your problems, and to a complete stranger no less. There is nothing wrong with telling other people these things._

_In any case, I will meet you there at 7:30 on the dot._

_For a fairer world,_

_The Archmage_

Harry allowed himself a self-satisfied smile as he hit the 'Send' button. As he deactivated his laptop, he began to wonder about the outcome of tomorrow. If what Alexandra said was true, it was highly likely he would be facing a clique of bitches. He knew the Archmage was supposed to be a badass, but a badass with morals. That left him in somewhat of a quandary…

"I don't have to get violent with them," he murmured as he stripped his costume off, re-Transfigured his glasses and pulled on his pajamas. "All I have to do is humiliate and scare them." He ended as he climbed into bed, set his alarm and slowly fell asleep.

* * *

"I'm kinda glad I gave up on patrol early." Harry breathed as he sprinted across the roofs of the many establishments along Church Street; the final stretch before Chapel and Gentlemen's. He had remained unseen, both because of the speed at which he moved and the use of a Disillusionment Charm to cloak his movement whenever he needed to move along the ground. His body was beginning to tire, but he kept telling himself that he had to keep going, build up his endurance and all that.

It was a handful of minutes later that he landed in the small space between two houses. Sticking to the early morning shadows, he surveyed the area. There. Standing by a lamp post at the T-section created by Gentlemen's and Chapel, was Alexandra Eldridge. She looked like she was around his age. Her mousy brown hair barely touched her shoulders, which were covered by the grey and black Enfield County School uniform. Her muddy brown eyes were shifting about, presumably looking for the wraith-like superhero whose picture she had seen on MySpace. He had originally been thinking about de-cloaking as he walked up to her, but Alexandra looked so nervous that he felt that doing such would be cruel to her. He tapped his right arm against his leg- his wand still in its holster- whispered "_Finite,_" and walked out of the alley as the charm dispelled in a way that resembled the colour of the Archmage returning in expanding circles. Alexandra's eyes performed another sweep, but stopped cold as she laid eyes upon the black and red masked man approaching her.

"Alexandra Eldridge?" Harry asked in his deep, raspy voice. He had tried for hours to alter it, but he still felt that he sounded identical to Christian Bale's Batman.

Alexandra was so stunned that she couldn't find her voice. She ended up nodding, completely dumbstruck.

"I-I can't believe you-you're actually the real deal. I thought y-you were just going to punk me." She stuttered. Harry shook his head.

"I'm the real deal." He answered. "Makes me wonder though: Was that just a BS email?" he asked, holding his hand up to his chin. Alexandra shook her head rapidly.

"N-no! That was true!" she assured him almost desperately. Harry nodded slowly.

"Alright then. What d'you want me to do to help you?" He asked, crossing his arms. There was silence for a few seconds.

"Well, um, would you mind… um… escorting me to school? Maybe suggesting the bullies leave me alone?" Alexandra mumbled, averting her eyes and looking incredibly embarrassed. Harry hadn't been expecting something so calm sounding, thus he was silent for a few seconds. Alexandra, hearing the Archmage's silence, allowed her face to fall into a look of pure dejection.

"Sure, I can do that." Harry answered upon seeing the younger girl's face fall. Almost as fast, it lit back up like a light. "You just surprised me; didn't expect such an innocent solution. Figured you'd ask me to rough 'em up a little bit, and I'd have had to say no." he elaborated. Alexandra gave him a glowing smile.

"Thank you!" she chirped happily. Harry allowed a small grin as he fell in step with the girl. There was silence between the schoolgirl and the superhero for about thirty seconds.

"What made you decide to go through with asking me for help?" Harry asked finally. Alexandra blinked.

"Well, your profile on MySpace kind of reminded me of Kick-Ass, and I thought you might be like him and actually follow up on my asking for help. Have you ever seen Kick-Ass?" she asked, their conversation turning recreational. Harry shook his head.

"Can't say I have…" he trailed off for a moment, debating about whether or not to tell her the next part of his train of thought. Her innocent look of questioning curiosity pushed him to go through with it.

"Cliché as it seems, I didn't have that great a home life. Missed a lot of good things." He finished. Alexandra frowned in sympathy, reaching out and squeezing his arm gently.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly. Harry smiled sadly and placed his gloved hand over hers.

"That's okay. Thanks for the sympathy." He said gratefully. She smiled back.

"Did… did your home life push you to go into crime fighting?" she asked tentatively. Harry nodded slowly, becoming wary.

"Partly. Discovering my powers was more the driving force." Harry said. Alexandra's look turned skeptical.

"If you're lucky, you might get to see them in action." Harry said amusedly, throwing in a crooked grin, barely visible under his large black hood. Alexandra pouted cutely, but Harry said nothing more. They walked silently, soon coming into visual range of Enfield County School. It wasn't a half-bad looking place. Light brown stone, mixed with a more modern wall of windows on opposite sides created the image of a fairly decent educational facility.

"Nice place," Harry remarked, scanning the smattering of girls in their dark uniforms who had shown up early. Alexandra nodded, also looking around.

"There," she said, pointing out a group of five or six very pretty and very dolled-up students standing together, catcalling and laughing at passing students. Presumably, those were the students they didn't like.

"Do they do this during the regular year too?" Harry asked. Alexandra simply nodded.

"Alright, let's get this over with." She swallowed, pacing towards the nearest entrance, Harry half a step behind her. As though they could sense her, the small group of girls turned one by one to stare hungrily at plain little Alexandra Eldridge. Their hungry looks became surprised or curious upon seeing the black and red wraith accompanying her. Their looks were shared by a handful of Enfield's other summer students. It didn't stop them from approaching her.

"Hey Alex," one of the girls- a very Aryan-looking girl, Harry noted- crooned in a simpering and sickly sweet voice. Harry was forcibly reminded of Dolores Umbridge.

"Anita," Alexandra answered coolly, avoiding eye contact.

"How are you today?" Anita asked, voice utterly lacking sincerity. Alexandra rolled her eyes.

"What do you want?" she half asked, half groaned. Anita grinned; an action which was mirrored by her four cohorts.

"Well right now, I want to know who this bloke is." She answered candidly. Alexandra turned her head to look into Harry's shadowed eyes for a second. Silent message sent, Harry nodded imperceptibly.

"I'm the Archmage," he rasped, causing raised eyebrows and looks of confusion between the small clique. "And I'm here to tell you to stay away from Ms. Eldridge." He added before crossing his arms in what he hoped was a threatening pose. The group of five shared incredulous looks and one of them even laughed. Clearly they weren't about to take him seriously.

"And what will you do if we don't? Go Superman on our arses?" a second one asked, prompting another giggle from the five. Harry's eyes narrowed. Clearly a show of force was necessary.

"Alexandra," he stated, catching aforementioned girl's attention. "You're skeptical about my powers? Well, this is your lucky day." He refocused his attention on the five girls.

"I'll do this," he answered the question ominously as he raised his wand arm. With a swish and flick of his wrist, accompanied by a muttered "_Wingardium Leviosa,_" he pointed his splay-fingered hand at the girl who had made the Superman remark. She was about to say something, but cried out in shock as she began to rise into the air. A collective wave of gasps or surprised exclamations erupted from the gathering crowd as the black-and-red masked man lifted the now screaming girl into the air with his 'mind'.

Harry slowly shifted his gaze to the remainder of the clique he had been summoned to deal with. They were advancing on him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Harry warned, twisting his hand and flipping his victim upside down. The four other girls stopped immediately. The chaotic actions of the crowd remained.

"Holding her up takes a lot of concentration. If you hit me… I might drop her." He threatened. In all reality, that was probably true. "Nasty way to end such a stupid little conflict, when all you have to do is listen to me: Leave. Alexandra. **Alone**." He lowered his voice to a snarl, bowing his head to hide his face.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" a female voice screeched. Harry shifted his eyes to see a woman- probably the Headmistress, judging by the suit she was wearing- with almost black hair and an expression of consternation on her face descending upon the scene. Her expression turned to one of fright when she bore witness to the Archmage's use of 'telekinesis' upon one of her students.

"What on earth are you doing to my students, boy?" she demanded, sounding angry to cover up her shock. Tilting his head in annoyance upon being called 'boy', Harry snorted.

"Doing what you failed to do," he answered cryptically, making the Headmistress raise her eyebrows in either confusion or interest. "Ms. Eldridge here complained to you that this group of five was picking on her and others because they were different. Out of curiosity," here he raised his voice, "who has been bullied by these five?" Nothing happened at first, but slowly, about a dozen hands went up slowly. The Headmistress looked around in complete horror.

"See what your lack of action has done?" Harry asked. "Because of you, one very brave student had to take this matter into her own hands and call in a superhero to resolve the problem." Harry paused to give Alexandra a nod of approval, at which she blushed for being called brave. "Now, I expect you to do something about this mess. If you don't, I'll be back, and you won't like what I do." Harry threatened as he twirled and released his captive. She yelped, failed to keep her footing, and fell to the ground. No one moved for a few seconds until Harry turned to address the crowd.

"If any of you are having problems like this, or worse, look me up." He said as he tapped his leg, muttered the incantation for the Disillusionment Charm, and caused another round of exclamations as he cloaked himself. Before he became almost completely transparent, he threw one last nod to Alexandra, who looked away in embarrassment.

* * *

'_All in all, seems like my first job's a success!' _Harry thought as he skulked through the city, two hours later, nearly invisible. _'Just hope that those girls start taking me seriously and that Headmistress starts listening to her students.' _He really didn't fancy making a trip back there to affirm that his return would not be pleasant.

'_The pigs might not be too happy with me either.' _Harry added. He almost smiled, having called the police 'pigs' for the first time. Why had he done so? He was trying to craft a persona he could apply to the Archmage that was different from Harry Potter; soft-spoken, noble and often stupidly brave. He was creating the Archmage; mysterious, gritty and dangerous. In a few ways, he felt that he was embracing his Slytherin side.

As he looked out of an alley, he spotted a young boy- no more than six- running after a basketball that was rolling towards the street. Sense of trouble tingling, he slunk towards the mouth of the alley.

"Robby! Come back! Get away from the street!" called a woman of twenty-something years who was probably 'Robby's' mother. _'She's kinda cute,' _Harry noted before refocusing on Robby. True to his instinct, a minivan came speeding along. The driver was clearly talking on their cell phone. At their current speed, they were going to turn the boy into a pancake. Adrenaline began to pump through Harry's system as he sprinted out of the alley, ramming into several people and prompting cries of outrage or surprise as a shimmering, transparent entity barreled past them. Robby's mother was crying out to her son, but the little boy did not notice anything but his ball until he heard the roar of the minivan's engine. He stopped his run as the grill of the two tonne vehicle drew closer and closer and his mother screamed in fright. That however, made it easier for Harry to stoop down, extend his arms, scoop the child up and extend his legs to dive out of the way of the speeding minivan. The grill of the car caught his ankles and spun him to his right, ending his rescue with several painful rolls, but still allowing him to exit the- thankfully- almost empty street. Judging by the squirming of the child in his arms, he wasn't hurt badly.

Lying on his back, Harry lowered his wand arm and cancelled his Disillusionment Charm, allowing himself to be made plain to Robby's mother and the people who were gathering around him. His uncloaking prompted a wave of exclamations and whispers from the small group of people watching. Robby himself was staring down at Harry with something akin to shock in his chocolate eyes. Harry, groaning at the pain in his legs, released Robby and slowly got to his feet before crouching down.

"Hey kid," he said in a less raspy, but deeper voice than his normal tone, "no playing in the streets. You're gonna hurt yourself if you're not careful. Understand?" he finished. Robby nodded vigorously.

"Thanks mister!" he answered. Harry nodded with a small grin, but was unable to leave immediately; due to the bear hug Robby's mother had forced him into. Surprise quickly melting away, Harry gently placed his hands on her back.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried in his ear. Harry simply smiled and patted her back.

"No problem miss," he assured her "just don't be too hard on him." She broke the hug a few seconds later, hugged her son and treated Harry to a smile with teeth that were far too bleached in his opinion.

"How can I thank you?" she asked. Not used to being put on the spot like that, Harry was silent for a few seconds. After an appropriate response came to his mind- and several cell phone pictures of him had been taken, as well as a few recordings that were still rolling- he raised his hooded and masked head to scan the crowd.

"You can spread the word," he stated, turning and backing up towards the alley had come from "that the Archmage is watching, and willing to help anyone who needs it. Check me out on MySpace!" He tapped his wand against his leg again, eliciting awed or surprised noises from the onlookers as he cloaked himself once again.

He had a feeling he was going to be swamped with emails and friend requests once he got back to the Roost.

* * *

"Hermione! Supper!" Alice Granger called. Seconds later, the rapid footsteps of the one and only Hermione Granger descended the staircase and into the kitchen. Unlike most of the time other people saw her, Hermione's hair was no longer a bushy mess. It was now tamed and fell down her back in a cascade of waves with a few locks draped over her shoulders.

How did this happen? Simple. A little known fact was that Hermione's room was soundproofed, due to her swearing like a sailor over Xbox LIVE, PlayStation Network, and any other sort of online gaming service provider. Blowing off steam in that fashion allowed the young witch to release the pent up stress from her year at Hogwarts, which was the cause of her untamable mass of hair. In addition, being back in the world allowed her to sate her mild (read: scary) caffeine addiction with drinks such as Coca-Cola, Red Bull, coffee, the whole nine yards. Alice and her husband Kevin- whom had been her on-and-off boyfriend and neighbour for twenty-four years before they finally married **(2)** - disapproved of Hermione's drinking habits, but no matter what they tried, their daughter just wouldn't quit. She was even snippier when she was in withdrawal, such as at Hogwarts where caffeinated beverages were sorely lacking.

*Sniff* "Mmm, curry smells brilliant again, Mum." Hermione sighed, a blissful smile on her face. Alice smiled.

"Thanks sweetie," she replied, ruffling Hermione's much less unruly hair. Hermione grinned sheepishly as her mother once again performed an act from her childhood, but didn't mind. Her father Kevin did the same thing when he joined the girls at the table. The two dentists talked to Hermione about their patients that day- the funny ones, more so- and Hermione told them about the summer homework she had been assigned, background on the class included. When their conversation petered off, Hermione began to daintily eat her curry, rice and vegetables. It was not long after a movie ad flashed across their dining room TV that the sixteen-year-old witch slowed her eating speed until she ground to a stop. Kevin and Alice, knowing that the look on her face was the 'Hermione's got an idea' look, also stopped eating and watched their daughter intently.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Kevin asked, his voice snapping Hermione out of her daze. She looked at her father and grinned.

"Sorry Daddy, mine are a Galleon apiece." She retorted. Kevin and Alice laughed.

"Seriously though, what are you thinking about sweetie?" he asked once he and Alice had quieted themselves. Hermione brought her hand up to her chin.

"Well… that movie ad that just popped up gave me another idea for a get rich quick scheme." She explained. Kevin and Alice stifled snickers at Hermione's mention of another 'Get rich quick scheme'. She had been coming up with these since she was seven years old, and they never failed to generate a laugh or two.

"I thought 'I need to figure out a spell that lets me Tron things from movies and video games, sell them and make billions. Just think about it! Hermione Granger: Inventor of the space-faring shuttle! The prototype FTL drive! Particle beam weapons! Holy crap, I need to start working on this!" Hermione started shaking excitedly, imagining all the good things that could come out of her 'Tron Charm'.

"Okay honey, you can start working on how to Tron these things _after_ dinner." Kevin laughed while gently squeezing his incredibly excited daughter's shoulder.

"Aww, do I have to?" she pouted, crossing her arms and sticking her lower lip out as far as she could. Kevin and Alice laughed again as they picked up their curry and started to eat. For a few minutes, the only sounds were those of utensils against the plates, and the sound of the 6 o' clock news beginning. Normally the Grangers would continue eating and simply listening to the news, but today, a rather interesting opening caught their attention.

"Good evening, and welcome to BBC News at Six, I'm George Alagiah. Our top story this evening begins with a question: How far would you go to help your fellow men or women? For this incredibly brave masked man, the answer is charging into a burning building to rescue two trapped siblings." The Grangers looked up from their meals in surprise as a camera shot of a burning King's College Residence complex surrounded by fire trucks, ambulances and police vehicles. The camera panned to the front of the building where, after a piece of debris seemed to explode from inside the lobby, a black-coated man ran out with someone unconscious and slung over his right shoulder. His left hand was being held by a small child, running to keep up with him, and covered by a second black coat. George continued "We now go live to Sophie Raworth, who is reporting on site. Sophie?" The camera changed to focus on the blonde reporter, waiting patiently for her cue.

"Thanks George. It was just after five o' clock when the fire broke out, and as you can see, is still raging. Shortly after, firefighters on site confirmed there were two people- Tina Oaks, a student at Kings', and her younger sister Lindsay- trapped two floors up. Captain Tom Morgan then said 'Out of nowhere, this bloke in a black coat just… _appeared_, somehow ripped open the front door without even touching it, and charged in. A few minutes later, boom! He comes running back out with those two kids completely unharmed. This kid's definitely earned the right to wear a mask.'"

"The masked man, who is calling himself 'The Archmage', has agreed to answer a few questions, and I am standing with him right now." The camera shot widened and showed Sophie standing next to the Archmage. Hermione raised one of her eyebrows as she got her first look at the so-called superhero. His body was covered by a midnight black tunic with a thin strip of red lining. A pointed hood acted as a cowl, but not enough to hide the mask that surrounded his dark blue eyes. The belt around his waist had a buckle styled as a golden 'A' with its tails sitting on top of an 'M'. His arms, which were crossed over his chest, were covered by the sleeves of a leather duster with some ashes as debris still clinging to it. His hands were similarly cased in black gloves with steel studs where his knuckles would be. _'The extra coat seems kind of excessive, but he looks the part.' _Hermione surmised.

"So Archmage, what prompted you to risk your life to save these two people?" Sophie asked, placing the mic before the slightly shorter Archmage. Said superhero was silent for a few seconds.

'Well Sophie, I just kinda figured it was the right thing to do. I'm sure you've noticed, but a lot of weird-" He broke off to erupt in a coughing fit, clearly still affected by smoke inhalation. With a deep breath, he continued "-things have been happening lately. That bridge collapse a couple weeks ago? Stuff like that doesn't happen by accident; _someone _did that." The Archmage answered in a tone quite similar to that of Christian Bale's Batman. The Grangers collectively agreed silently with the masked man. The way the bridge collapsed was not natural, and there was a clear lack of explosive residue on the scene. The only answer left that made sense to the three was magical foul play.

"I don't know anything about that incident, but I do know that I can use my powers to clean up this city, make it easier on the cops so they can look into it and other situations." He finished, prompting a nod from Sophie, who brought the mic back to her mouth to ask another question.

"You keep saying 'your powers' and Captain Morgan-" she paused when the Archmage chuckled, then chuckled herself at the unintentional joke "- said that you quote 'ripped off the front door (of the residence) without even touching it,' Would you care to tell us a little bit about that?" Sophie asked. By now, the Grangers were extremely interested. The Archmage, again, was silent for a few seconds.

"… It's probably better if I just show you." He stated as he turned to his right and stared at a police cruiser. As the camera panned to the left, the Archmage raised his right arm and pointed his palm at the car. For a few seconds nothing happened. The Grangers' jaws collectively opened when the car began to lift slowly into the air. Sophie gasped into the mic. "Are you seeing this? I'm not just imagining this, am I?" she asked someone unseen, most likely the camera operator. A faint confirmation from the operator had Sophie looking back at the camera.

"As you can see George, we are currently witnessing a display of what appears to be genuine telekinesis from the Archmage. There's no doubt left in my mind that he deserves to be called a superhero." Sophie stated somewhat slowly, as though watching the Archmage lift a two-ton vehicle with nothing more than a thought had blown her mind, which it probably had. The Grangers had completely forgotten their meal as the black and red superhero slowly set the car back down on the ground.

"That's not all I can do, but I'd rather keep my secrets." He said with a grin at Sophie's dumbfounded expression. The blonde reporter took a second to regain her higher brain functions.

"I see. Well Archmage, as a true- no, as the _first_ superhero, is there anything you'd like to say to the general public?" she asked. The Archmage gave a quick snicker.

"This is so much like a cliché superhero movie. Guess it can't be helped though, my _being_ a superhero and all. But sure, I have a few words of wisdom." He stopped to clear his throat, only to cough a couple more times.

"Seeing me here is undoubtedly gonna inspire a slew of followers to give in to the call of the mask and the tight latex suit. Just remember, you who are thinking along those lines: I'm a professional, and I have superpowers to back up that claim. So unless you can bend steel with your mind or do something else no one but you can do, don't try anything you see me do.

"On another note, if you are having any problems of the violent sort or have any tips about crime around London, email…" The Archmage further performed an amazing feat when he began to write crackling yellow letters in the air with his finger. As his arm jerked, Hermione caught a flash of something tiny and white against his black gloves and coat. It took her a second, but the analysis made her suck in a breath.

It was the tip of a wand.

The Archmage wasn't a superhero; he was a wizard.

"… This address," He finished after spelling www dot MySpace dot com slash The Archmage. As he backed away from Sophie, he stated his motto "For a fairer world," before somehow vanishing from sight. Sophie turned back to the camera, still completely dumbstruck.

"And with that, we return to you George."

The Internet was incredibly crowded that night as people posted clips of the world's first 'Honest to God' or 'Real' superhero on YouTube, sent the word of the Archmage's appearance through FaceBook and Twitter, and spontaneously created forums discussing anything and everything known and speculated about the mysterious black and red wraith of a superhero.

* * *

**And that's Chapter 3! As usual:**

**-1- Tell me whether or not you liked this installment  
****-2- Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this installment  
****-3- Tell me what you DIDN'T like about this installment  
****-4- Recommend a suitable improvement  
****-5- See the link in my profile for a rough image of what the Archmage looks like**

**Dirty Reid**

**-(1)- Believe it or not, that's a Dirty Reid original.**

**-(2)- Try and guess which song I'm referring to.**


End file.
